Stephanie asked if he loved his adoptive parents.

The truth of the matter was...he didn't even know.

How could he? It wasn't like he had a shining example of it at home. He didn't know what love was supposed to feel like. He knew how it looked; when he was back in elementary school, he'd seen the other kids getting hugged and kissed by their parents, he saw boyfriends and girlfriends, husbands and wives being romantic with each other. He saw how his adoptive parents were with each other. He knew how it looked. He wasn't blind or stupid. He just...

He didn't know if he could ever feel love the way everyone else did.

They tried to show him love while also keeping a distance so he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed. And it was nice, don't get him wrong. It was a relief not having to guess what mood they would be in each day or be wary about their reactions to things. He knew they wished he would say it back when they told him they loved him. It didn't escape him, that small pause. He'd have to be an idiot to not notice. There was always this awkward air that came from it whenever he didn't say it. Charlie knew they didn't mean to make him feel that way. It just happened. They would never try to purposefully make him feel bad. His Dad was always saying for him to take his time, there's no rush.

Unfortunately for them, no matter how much time Charlie took, he didn't think there'd ever be a time when he could efficiently say it.

/

"Hay Sport," Dad greeted him one morning.

Charlie gave a head nod, mouth full of cereal.

"I got an idea," Dad continued, making Charlie glance in his direction. "What if me and you had a man's day together?"

Mom squealed from her place in the kitchen. "Oh, that sounds so exciting, doesn't it, Charlie?"

Soooo exciting...

"I guess," he mumbled.

Dad either ignored or didn't him. "It'll be great, bud. We'll do whatever you like, we'll stay out late and you pick what we have for dinner." He was clearly ecstatic, something Charlie couldn't say he was mirroring on the inside. "So, what do you say? You in?"

Charlie never bonded with his Dad. He was almost always drinking or at work or out with some woman he found. They'd never had a 'man's day' or spent any longer in each other's presence than they needed to. And sure, he understood his new dad was different than his real one and he also knew why his new dad wanted to do this. But there was some other part of him that didn't get it.

He'd rather not go. Being alone with either of his adoptive parents could feel awkward at times. But he also didn't want to seem like he wasn't grateful or that he didn't care about them because he did.

It was just really complicated.

"I guess," He said quietly. "Sure."

"Atta boy!" Dad beamed. "Now you finish and I'll go fill the car up."

"Okay," Charlie put on a wide fake smile. He watched Dad go down the hallway and out the door. Sighing, he slumped down in his chair.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Mom asked.

"It's nothing," Charlie shrugged.

She pursed her lips a little, pulling herself away from the counters she'd been wiping down. She took a seat beside him, smiling at him encouragingly. "Are you sure? It doesn't seem like it's nothing."

He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't think she'd understand. It would just make her sad. She'd think she'd done something wrong, she'd rush to reassure him that what he was feeling wasn't true. She might even cry. Charlie didn't want to see it. He didn't want to hear it.

"It really isn't anything." The crumbly pieces of cereal floated in his milk.

"Then why are you quiet?" She said.

"I'm always quiet," He gave her a small smile. "You always tell me to speak up, remember?"

She placed one leg over her other. "If this is about your dad's man's day, you can tell him you don't want to go. He won't be mad at you."

He didn't say anything.

"Besides, it's about time your dad and I have a date night," Mom said. "If I really wanted to be evil, I'd drag him down to see an opera. We haven't done that since before you came to live with us."

"The opera?" He raised his eyebrows, looking at her like she'd grown another head. "You like opera?"

"Oh, yes," Mom was wearing that look like she did whenever she was getting lost in memories. "We've gone so many times. It's always so lovely. Of course, your father disagrees. He's not a fan of it."

Can't say I blame him

She brightened up. "Oh, I had the most wonderful idea!"

He drank his orange juice.

"What if you come with us next time!"

He grimaced. "Wow, that's, uh-"

"I think you would love it!" Mom insisted. "You've never been, have you?"

"Can't say I have," Charlie couldn't think of a worse way to spend his summer.

"I'll talk about it with your father," Mom told him. "We might make it a family day within the next week or so. They're all sold out right now."

"I can't wait," he lied.

He could totally wait.

"What can't you wait for?" Dad asked as he came back in. That was quick; he must have gone to the gas station closest to them instead of the other one which was usually cheaper by fifty cents.

"I was telling Charlie about our opera days," Mom said with a happy sigh.

"You mean how you forced me to go," Dad corrected.

"What are you talking about? I didn't force you," She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't even that bad. You weren't complaining by the end."

"Because I knew better," Dad said to which Mom snorted. "Son-" he looked at Charlie. "Word of advice for you: if your lady asks if you're having fun and you're not, just smile and nod."

Mom playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, you."

"I'm serious. It's a life changer."

"Don't listen to your father," Mom shook her head. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," He winked at her.

"You're ridiculous," She said, lightly pushing him. "I married a moron."

"But I'm your moron."

"Not for long," She said jokingly.

"Oh?" he said. "You've got someone else in mind?"

"Maybe I do," She said smoothly.

"In that case, tell me his name so I can give him my sympathies," Dad snickered.

"You're awful," She said, but she was smiling.

"Are you two done?" Charlie rolled his eyes.

They looked at each other and laughed.

"I think he's getting tired of us, hun," Dad grinned.

"Just wait until he gets a girlfriend," Mom said. "He'll be all over her."

"Sure," He muttered.

"Stephanie's a nice girl," Dad 'innocently' remarked.

"She sure is," Mom agreed with a wink.

Charlie's face was impassive.

"We wouldn't blame you if you asked her out," Mom said.

"I'm not asking her out." Charlie would rather suffocate. Stephanie would probably laugh at him if he did. Not that he wanted to. He didn't.

"Leave the boy alone, Rae," Dad said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I just want my little boy to be happy," She cooed.

"I'm not a little boy," he grumbled.

"You're my little boy," Mom laughed.

"Yay," He deadpanned.

"So, what are your plans for today, gorgeous?" Dad said, putting his arm around Mom, pulling her closer.

Charlie had to look away. Whenever they got all mushy with each other, it just brought out complicated feelings. It was just more than he could handle.

"Probably a girl's day," She kissed Dad's cheek. "I'll go to the store, get some snacks and watch old rom coms while we do each other's nails."

Even at seventeen, Charlie didn't understand why girls had so much fun doing those things. It sounded really boring to him. To add to his confusion, he was surprised that Stephanie of all people liked those kinds of movies. Or maybe she didn't and only planned on tolerating one for the sake of driving him crazy.

That is, if she were to win.

Which she won't.

"Alright, Sport, go get changed," Dad told him. "Then we'll be on our way."

"Why?" He was wearing his usual clothes, which was practically what he wore all year round.

"Because it's almost one-hundred out and I don't need you getting heat stroke."

Charlie sighed.

"Come on," Dad chuckled. "Put some shorts on and one short," He lifted up Charlie's baggy sleeve.

"Fine," Charlie didn't want to but he wasn't going to argue.

When he came back downstairs, he felt a bit exposed. Cold, too. He was usually covered up all the time except for in the shower. The shorts felt odd against his legs. They were ones that his parents had picked out. He'd never owned any before. Well, except for PE. But he didn't wear them any other time.

One of the first places they'd gone after he came to live with them was to a store or two. He thought he was fine but they were adamant that he needed some new clothes. It was mind-blowing for him to be able to pick out whatever he wanted. The Mark's were not rich by any means, but they'd set aside a generous amount of money for him to get some clothes, things for his room and anything else.

Charlie hadn't known how to react.

/

"Figured out what you want to do yet?" Dad asked, glancing out his rearview mirror as he pulled out of the driveway.

"I don't know."

"Mind if I make a suggestion?" Dad said with a friendly smile.

Charlie shrugged. "Fine."

"Ever been fishing?"

"No," Charlie said.

"We could do that. I know this great spot. My dad took me there when I was your age."

"Okay," Charlie said slowly.

/

"Having fun?" Dad said cheerfully.

"Loads."

Charlie was given a fisherman's hat to wear. They had stopped at a bait and tackle shop, purchasing the needed supplies. Dad had to replace his old fishing rod, which he'd kept since he was a kid and Charlie needed one. Dad had gotten them both hats to wear for the fun of it, as he'd said. Charlie thought it was painfully dorky.

They stood, leaning against the railing on the pier. The sun was shining, birds were chirping. It was a peaceful morning. Charlie was kind of bored; as it turned out, fishing required patience. There was a lot of waiting involved. It wasn't exactly thrilling.

But his dad was happy.

It was the first time in a while they'd done something like this. At first, his mom and dad had given him plenty of space so he could adjust accordingly to his new surroundings. They never forced him to be affectionate or spend time with him. Gradually, over time, they offhandedly made suggestions about doing this or that together. He'd resisted a couple of times, clamming up at the last minute.

And somehow, they never got angry.

It was like a never ending puzzle; the pieces kept getting undone and messed up just as he was nearly finished. They didn't make sense! They were so patient and kind and understanding and it threw him for a loop every time. How was he supposed to respond to that? How was he supposed to feel?

He kept waiting for things to change. Waiting for the switch to flip. Waiting for their true selves, the kind he was used to because of his real dad, to appear.

"I'm sure we'll catch a bite soon," Dad said. "If we do, we can have it for dinner tomorrow."

Charlie nodded, watching the water ripple.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" Dad said, "You're about to start your senior year."

"Not for a few more weeks."

"Still," Dad said. "I can't believe how time flew by. Seems like just yesterday we were bringing you home."

"You're not gonna cry like Mom did, are you?" Charlie groaned. He'd come home recently to find his mom sitting on the couch, flipping through a photo album she'd started after bringing him home-which was the first time he had a picture taken of him that wasn't school related. She'd sniffled, tears welling up in her eyes. It worsened when she caught sight of him, bursting into noisy tears.

"No, no," Dad shook his head. "Just reminiscing, that's all. I promise."

That's a relief

"And I suppose I should admit, I had some...ulterior motives in taking you out here."

"Like what?" Charlie said immediately. His mind thought of the worst possible scenario.

"It's about what you're gonna do once you graduate."

"Like college?" He guessed.

"Not exactly," Dad rubbed the back of his neck. "You know once you're eighteen, you don't have to stay with us anything, right?"

Charlie felt himself go cold. "Oh."

"And if that's what you want, that's okay. We'll respect your decision."

Charlie blinked. "Wait-" Dad looked at him. "You aren't kicking me out?"

Dad frowned in concern. He set the fishing rod down without a second thought. "Kicking you out? No, no. Why would you think that?"

"I thought that's what you meant," Charlie felt terribly confused. Isn't that what he meant when he started the conversation?

"Of course not, Charlie," Dad said sadly. "Your mom and I would never do that in a million years. We love you. We just didn't know if you would still be around. Your case worker warned us it might happen."

Charlie lowered his eyes. If he was still eleven, still angry at the world, it might have been the first thing he would do once he was of age.

But now?

He may not have known if he loved them or not, but they were the only people to take him in when everyone was too timid to do it because of his background. They'd given him a whole new life.

How could just...leave?

"Well, she was wrong," Charlie said much too strongly. He toned it down, trying to be nonchalant. "You guys probably wouldn't last without me."

"That's probably true," Dad smiled. His fishing rod started to move around wildly.

"Did you catch something?" Charlie said, staring at it.

"I think so!" Dad reeled it in. "Oh, this is a big one. I can feel it. Just wait until I show your mom-" That supposed 'fish' turned out to be one at all.

Or anything alive.

Charlie tilted his head. It was a boot. A soggy, green boot that was either thrown in or lost by somebody. "You could Mom that."

"I don't think she'd appreciate it," Dad played along.

"Well, she's not like us," Charlie shrugged. "You know, appreciating the finer things in life."

"I'm telling her you said that," Dad said playfully. He looked at his catch with slight dismay. "Oh, well. There's always next time, I suppose."

"Yeah. Maybe you'll catch the other boot."

Dad mock glared at him while Charlie laughed.

"I'd like to see you catch something, Mr. Mouth."

/

He did end up catching something.

Charlie could hardly believe it was happening. He didn't want to get his hopes up, in case he was only pulling up something that wasn't a fish.

But it was!

"There you go!" Dad was beaming as the fish came out of the water, struggling to get away. He placed his hands over Charlie's, helping him reel the fish in. When it was close enough for Dad to grab, he inspected it. "This is a good catch, bud. Not a bad size, either."

It wasn't a large one, but it was more than he'd been expecting.

Charlie had a grin on his face. A genuine grin, not the fake kind he gave his parents or anyone else to keep them from questioning him.

/

"Can I ask you a question?"

They'd stopped for dinner at Charlie's request and now it was time for dessert, as his dad had proclaimed. A nice little diner on the corner, known for its delicious meals, with its southern roots, was where they went to for their final destination. Tucked away in the back was a booth where they sat across from each other. Charlie sliced into his five topping sundae with a spoon, not looking up at his dad as he waited for an answer.

"You know you can," Dad said first thing, which was not usual for him. If he wasn't making a joke, he was serious. Such as now. "What's on your mind?"

"It's stupid," Charlie said as a sort of warning.

"I happen to like stupid questions," Dad said mildly. He gently patted Charlie on the top of his hand. "You can ask me anything you need to."

"It's just-" Charlie didn't know how to word it. "I want to do something...like a career...but I don't know if I should."

Dad sucked on his milkshake, contemplating his words. "I assume this has to do with helping people similar to yourself?"

With his eyes staring down at his ice cream, Charlie murmured, "I just...I feel like I should."

"Charlie, if this is what you truly want to do, your mom and I will support you. But you shouldn't feel obligated to do it or think it's expected of you because of your background."

"I don't," Charlie shook his head. If anything, once people learned of his artistic skills-though, in his opinion, they weren't that good. He wasn't exceptional or anything-they thought he would do well in art school. He didn't share that thought. Art was merely a hobby he indulged in sometimes. It wasn't something he envisioned for himself as a career. "I just...I don't want them to feel alone like I did."

"That's understandable," Dad said softly. "So, what are we looking at, here? An officer, social worker-what?"

"I don't know yet," Charlie let the ice cream drip off his spoon and back down to the plastic cup. "I haven't decided."

"Well, when you do, I'd like to know."

"You aren't upset?" Charlie studied his face, searching for the lie.

"Why would I be upset?" Dad asked.

Charlie shrugged, feeling somewhat foolish for presuming. "Thought you'd try to talk me out of it."

"Charlie, look at me."

He did, but not right away.

"If you feel passionately about this and not using this as a way to prove yourself, I'll support you all the way. I would be proud of you, regardless of what you end up doing. That will never change."

"You mean that?" Charlie asked with a hint of vulnerability he did not display often.

His dad's smile was warm. "Of course I do."

/

The house was empty except for Mom when they returned.

She was cleaning up the living room. The TV was still running, with the end credits playing in the background. They came through the front door; Charlie's parents-they're not your real parents. Don't forget that-embraced when they caught each other's eye, kissing tenderly.

"How'd today go?" Dad asked.

"Just wonderful," Mom said. "It was great seeing everyone again. We talked and we're making it a monthly thing." She stretched her arms a little, noticing the fish Charlie was carrying. "I see your day went well. I hope your dad didn't just drag you there." She shot her husband a cheeky grin.

"We had a great time," Dad said. "And got some delicious ice cream on our last stop."

"Oh, I don't want to hear another word about food," Mom jokingly groaned. "I'm stuffed."

"Oh," Charlie said, showing her the paper bag that contained her dessert they'd gotten before they left, "well, we got you a sundae."

Mom pursed her lips, contemplative. "I suppose one more thing couldn't hurt..."

"I thought you were stuffed?" Dad raised his eyebrows.

"Hush, you," She pointed a finger at him.

He laughed.

"I think I'm gonna go upstairs," Charlie interrupted their little moment. "I'm kinda tired."

"Alright, sweetheart," Mom gave him one last smile before she went into the kitchen. "Goodnight."

Dad approached him. He almost touched him on the shoulder, but refrained at the last minute. "I hope you enjoyed yourself today. I know I did."

"Yeah," Charlie said truthfully. He hadn't expected to. But being out there, doing some one-on-one time was surprisingly...nice. "I did." An uncharacteristic wave of shyness came over him. "Maybe...maybe we can do it again sometime."

Dad looked touched. His eyes looked suspiciously misty. He turned slightly, coughing. "I'd like that, too."